


Young & Dumb

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kid’s young, dumb, full of cum-- just the way Benny likes, greasy pompadour slicked back and the barest scratch of stubble on his lip as he dives into Benny’s mouth with wet lips and a touch of tooth. His tongue slicks across Benny’s, a sweet-sour tang of warm beer and nicotine. Real leather jacket on those shoulders too-- clean old-world scent to it, soft and buttery, not like the vinyl crap that some of the low-ranking King boys gotta make do with. Shame it doesn’t drown out the cologne the guy’s doused himself in, but can’t have everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young & Dumb

Kid’s young, dumb, full of cum-- just the way Benny likes, greasy pompadour slicked back and the barest scratch of stubble on his lip as he dives into Benny’s mouth with wet lips and a touch of tooth. His tongue slicks across Benny’s, a sweet-sour tang of warm beer and nicotine. Real leather jacket on those shoulders too-- clean old-world scent to it, soft and buttery, not like the vinyl crap that some of the low-ranking King boys gotta make do with. Shame it doesn’t drown out the cologne the guy’s doused himself in, but can’t have everything. At least he’s eager, shoves Benny back so hard he buckles back on his knees and hits the mattress with a thump.

“You always this excited or this just for me, kiddo?” he asks, leaning back and wriggling. The mattress creaks, not quite covering up the prewar crooner on the radio.

The kid grins, sets crinkles at the corners of his eyes that make him look older. Still young though. Benny’d bet his last chip that the kid’s mid-twenties at most. Strong eyebrows and full lips, slightly parted. Nice kinda face.

“You always this mouthy, or this just for me, asshole?” Sets his hands on Benny’s shoulders, straddles his hips and presses him into the bed with a growl. Twists his fingers along the back of his scalp and snickers as Benny protests ‘not the hair!’ Sits his weight on Benny’s thighs, shrugging off the jacket and letting it hit the floor as he peels off the white shirt beneath. Kid’s pale-bellied like a gecko despite that sun-brown skin, smooth and unmarked. Soft to the touch. Benny traces a thumb down his sternum, trailing through the sparse hairs leading below the belt while the kid detaches his Pip-Boy-- and that brings back unwelcome memories of that business with the courier-- so Benny opens his mouth to move things along.

Dammit, can’t remember the kid’s name-- Bill? Burke?-- so fudges with, “Hey pussycat, why not put that mouth to work?” Pumps his hips, grinding his hard-on against the sweet curve of the kid’s ass, checkered suit scraping against the denim.

The boy laughs, cracking open Benny’s suit and rucking up the shirt beneath. Lets out a low whistle at Benny’s old scars and tats, rubs his palm over the keloid swipe that Benny doesn’t remember if it was gecko or nightstalker, not anymore. (Though if asked, he always lies and says deathclaw.) Bites his tongue between his teeth, smirking. “Only if you call me by name, asshole.”

Well, shit. Benny knows when to fold ‘em, and tosses up his hands and most winning smile. “Got me there, kiddo. Guess I owe you a blowjob.”

“Yes you do. _Benny_.” He unzips his fly and tugs his jeans down, pulling out his cock. Half-hard, still growing, and-- the kid catches his hesitation, throws it back with a growl. “What, never seen a dick this nice?”

“You’re a _tough_ sonuvvabitch, I’ll give you that,” Benny says, admiration rising. And other bits. Despite the kid’s soft hands and nice hair, he’s got some kinda rough in the background too. “So, coming of age? Rite of manhood? What, like the Khan beat-down pit but more blood and penises?”

“What the fuck you talking about, man?”

“ _That_.” Benny pushes down his own pants, one hand on his cock and the other on the boy’s. Wraps his thumb over the tip, a slow twist that makes the boy groan as he flicks along the underside of the glans and the bare ring of skin. “Or if it’s not any of that, at least tell me you whacked the sonofabitch who did it to you.”

“Thi-- oh _shit_ man, you ain’t never seen a circumcised dick before? Holy shit.” A pause as Benny leans in to use his mouth, and the pitch changes. “Holy _shit_.”

Hard to ask more questions with his mouth full, but Benny leans and the kid follows, rolling onto his back and shimmying the jeans off those lean hips. Kicks off one leg, gets the other tangled around his knees, so Benny stops sucking long enough to finish undressing him. Peppers kisses along the kid’s inner thighs, sliding himself back between the guy’s legs with a cheerful, “So, this ‘circumcised.’ Did it--”

“Fucking Christ man, just finish _blowing_ me already,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of Benny’s hair and pulling him close. His knees fit over Benny’s shoulders, one sliding off to the side but Benny pulls Butch’s cock in with his lips, a generous coat of spit before circling his hand around the base, the other hand cupping the kid’s balls. This far down he’s finally away from the kid’s godawful cologne. Might be tolerable in small bursts-- got some spice and musk to it, like nutmeg and incense-- but the kid fucking _bathed_ in it. At least he’s clean beneath it, salt and warm skin. Not just using it to cover up for terrible lack in hygiene.

And exotic junk or not, this part’s pretty much the same. Find an easy rhythm, follow the kid’s cues-- focus on what makes the kid’s breath hitch, his hips cant. A couple times he moans loud and clear, or hisses “right there, right there” as Benny twists his spit-slicked fingers along the veins running under the shaft. Not too long-- not that the kid’s quick on the trigger, but at least Benny doesn’t have to worry about getting a crick in his neck-- and the kid grunts a warning. Benny picks up the pace, pulling up and feeling the balls lift in his palm. Semen hits the back of his tongue and Benny swallows, giving one final suck to clean up stragglers before sitting up to give the kid a slick-lipped grin.

“Works just fine.”

“Works _damn_ well,” the kid retorts, pushing back on his palm to sit up. Benny scootches himself back, ass resting on the blanket between the kid’s bent knees and Benny’s legs warm over the kid’s. The kids spits in his palm and wraps around Benny’s dick, sliding back the foreskin with a single smooth motion. And Benny thinks about telling him about the bottle of lube on the nightstand, but _fuck_ that means pausing and he doesn’t want to stop for a single heartbeat. Not when those soft hands feel so damn nice-- none of the hard all-over callus from the guys that do rough work for a living, but a little bit of a gun-slinger’s ridge along the index. And holy _shit_ that feels even better when the kid hangs his arm over Benny’s shoulder, breathes hard against his neck and bites the line of his collarbone. Sweat sticks them together, and Benny thinks this pussycat’s hot shit, yeah, and--

“Butch!” he blurts, shifting to a delighted yelp as he comes between them, a spurt of semen hitting his belly and dripping down Butch’s fingers.

“Took you long ‘nuff to remember, asshole.” Butch reaches up with sticky fingers, rubbing jizz into Benny’s hair. Benny swears, swatting his hand away and Butch snickers, shifting into a full-on belly-laugh at Benny’s indignation. “Hey, don’tcha know? It’s real good for your hair. Trust me, I’m a barber.”

“You’re an asshole is what you are,” Benny grumbles, leaning back and tugging Butch’s hand. Kid shakes his hand off, instead leaning off the bed-- and that _is_ a nice view, the kid’s ass in the air-- to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. Makes to light it, but Benny interrupts with an “allow _me_ ” and a flourish, pulling out one of his own cigarettes and a silver engraved lighter. Not as nice as his old one-- and fuck, what he wouldn’t give for that thing-- but still flashy enough to impress the dames and the gents. He does it with proper style, leaning close and touching his cigarette to Butch’s. Palm cupped around the tips to shield them from an imaginary wind, and sets the light. Catches Butch raising an eyebrow, impressed in spite of himself.

“Don’t just stare in dumb admiration, Butch,” he says, indulgent in post-orgasmic bliss. “C’mon, don’t be afraid to tell me how much you liked it.”

“Fine, fine. You suck cock nearly as well as you talk. Happy, man?”

Benny shakes his head, tuning out the last lyrics of Mr New Vegas’ station. “Nah. Where you from, pussycat? You don’t got that army-boy spitshine to you, and got better hands than most of the Wastelanders around.” Raises a hand in broad gesture to the leather jacket crumpled on the floor. “And don’t recognize that logo either.”

“Tunnel Snakes. Biggest, baddest gang from the Capital Wasteland,” Butch says. Leans back in the pillow, taking a drag and releasing smoke through his nostrils.

“Tunnel Snakes, eh?” Benny leans his shoulder into Butch’s, sneaks his toes over the kid’s ankle. “So, do I get to snake your tunnel next time, or…?”

“Shit, man. What makes you think there’s gonna _be_ a next time?”

“Try not to smile so wide, baby. You might break your mouth.”

Butch rolls his eyes, but fails to protest as Benny inches closer. Good. Benny tries for a kiss behind the ear, but Butch swats him away before he can catch more than a hint of unfamiliar soap. “Lay off, man. Tunnel Snakes don’t _cuddle_ ,” he growls, lips twisting in a sneer copied from one of them old reels, plastered on like a faded movie poster.  At least he looks better than the King boys when they try to pull that crap.

“Aw, but pussycat! Hold me, will ya?”

Butch tilts his head, lips pursed like considering it, then chuckles and pushes his palm against Benny’s chest, tangling up the lines of cool sweat. “Nah, I’m good. Might see you around if I meet up with the Nosebleed again.”

“This Nosebleed someone who done you wrong?” Benny’s done worse than whack someone to impress a date, and for a simple hit he doesn’t even have to cash in any favors.

“Nah-- old friend.” Butch passes Benny his cigarette as he draws his shirt back over his head and works the rest of his clothes back on. Doesn’t take back the cigarette until the Pip-Boy’s back in place, and Benny tries to shake the uneasy recognition at that bit of Vaultie tech. They all look the same, right? Because they’re all the same kinda machine, right? “Went missing a bit ago, but hell. I know the Nosebleed. Would crawl right outta the grave to kick my ass if I didn’t at least try looking.”

“Well, you know where to come if you get tired of chasing ghosts, kid.”

Butch snorts, real eloquent. “Fuck you.” Makes a point of grabbing a bottle of whiskey on the way out, the _good_ stuff they keep on the high shelf downstairs. Sloshes it loud and noisy as he leaves the suite, kicking the door shut behind him.

Benny sighs and takes a long drag off his cigarette. Worse comes to worst, he can set Yes Man to tracking non-King pomade purchases.

 


End file.
